


The Prince and the Singer

by orphan_account



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Koz's probably the good-est guy here, M/M, Much craziness, Some Fluffiness, Some Humor, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 05:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Joyce Jackson St. North is a name of importance.Not only because it's a handful and needs quite the exhale to be pronounced, but mostly because it's a noble name. The name of the Prince.And the Prince has this tiny crush on this famous singer, and the King is a little haunted by the press so it's a big no.But the Prince is persistent.





	The Prince and the Singer

 

~

 

Joyce Jackson St. North was a name of importance.

Not only because it was a handful and needed quite the exhale to be pronounced, but mostly because it was a noble name. The name of the Prince.

It was a small Kingdom, the one Joyce’s father ruled. It had just the right amount of plains, some mountains here and there and a decent share of coast. It’s inhabitants thrived and excelled in the arts: music, cuisine, sculpture, painting, literature, theather. They were dreamers and artists, and the Royal family wasn’t an exception.

With his passion for craftmanship, Nicholas Kaus St. North was a joyous and benevolent ruler. And in that particular moment of his life, that passion represented just the perfect point of leverage on which the young Prince could count.

If he managed to exploit his father’s rebellious and artistic streak, he might’ve just obtained what his heart most desired: to see the charming singer Haven in a live concert.

“His songs are awesome! So _insightful_ and melodic! His voice is amazing… potent and singular and-”

“And his eyes are _so_ green, and his freckles are _so_ cute, and his legs are _so_ -”

“What the hell!” would Joyce then screech, with crimson cheeks. And so the King would giggle and then try to compose himself with a very stern expression.

“Joyce, my boy, I know you have a particulary strong… _admiration_ ” he hissed the last word between his teeth “for this artist, and I can’t deny that he’s apporting a substantial increase to the music market, which is certainly good, but Joyce… child, you’re young and impulsive, and I know very well what you feel for this boy.”

“But father” whined the Prince.

“A scandal is the last thing we need right now, Joyce. With those nosy journalists that waits like vultures just for me to take a wrong step -someone please remind me why press freedom is a good idea again- and if something is to happen between you and…”

Joyce stomped angrily out of the Great Study, followed like a shadow by his faithful bodyguard Koz.

He knew the drill: after his father had authorized a painter’s fair where everything but paint had circulated, the press had been breathing down on his neck, thirsty for gossip and scandals.

His father was somehow afraid that Joyce could be discredited even just for asking for a private meeting with the handsome singer.

Huffing, Joyce barged into his apartments and landed ungracefully on his bed. Koz calmly sat down on the sofa under one of the huge windows, waiting for the temper tantrum that would be unleashed in moments.

Indeed, after half a minute, a keen wail emerged from the mountain of pillows.

“ _Nnnnuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…_ ”

Koz rolled his eyes.

“It’s not fair… why is my father convinced that I’d jump Haven the moment I see him? What would I possibly do? Oh hey Haven, let’s make out where anyone could see us and end up on all the kingdom’s gossip ma- argh!”

Joyce threw away the couch’s hard pillow that had landed on his face and sat up, glaring angrily at Koz.

“Get yourself togheter” the man said “You’re still the Prince.”

“Right. Please condone my less than appropriate behaviour, ladies and gentlemen of the court.” He swooped his arm at the empty bedroom.

Koz rolled his eyes again. Since the birth of the young Prince, that was the gesture he repeated more often.

Joyce sighed, with a dreamy expression. He jumped off the bed and entered the huge walk-in closet. On the walls between the compartements were platered an immodest number of posters portraying the boy of his dreams.

His father was right, he mused. His eyes were _so_ green.

He undressed and placed a light kiss on the cheek of one of the posters, that had Haven smiling sweetly, and started searching for something cozier than the elegant pressed shirt he was made to wear for the official pictures.

He found his favorite blue hoodie and jeans and examined himself in the high mirror with a little bit of longing. Dressed like that, with his hair dishveled, he was the same as every other seventeen year old of the kingdom.

And then, the idea. If Haven couldn’t come to the palace…

_…I’ll go to him._

 

_~_

 

“Remind me why this is a good idea again” mumbled the Prince, puffing to blow away a lock of the long black wig from his face, squished between an overexcitable group of teenagers and Koz, lining up to enter the stadium.

The man, for his part, was managing to maintain a neutral expression and an alert eye despite the long curly blonde wig that made his nose itch. Joyce could see the poor guard’s trained senses go haywire.

“Because making one of your youth’s dream come true in one way or the other will help you become a wise and non-resentful ruler.”

“Right” said Joyce, observing a new poster that his collection was missing “It’s for the good of the realm.”

Koz gave a distracted nod, eyeing a portly guy overloaded with chips.

“Koz, you’re too _serious_. You have to blend in otherwise we’ll be discovered soon.”

“I’ll start bouncing like a broken frog soon, sir. Just let me assimilate the tecnique.”

Joyce snickered, lowering his baseball hat a little more and doing the same with Koz’s.

 

~

 

The concert was everything he’d dreamed about and so much more.

Hearing Haven’s incredible voice live, in all of his scratching glory and the goofy personality he let transpire between a song and the other made him look even more worthy in Joyce’s eyes.

When the show ended, he planted his feet on the ground and anchored himself with Koz to not be dragged away by the frantic crowd.

Koz was supervising everything with sharp eyes. “If the flux of spectators remains constant for the next few years, Mister Haven’s earnings could concur with your father’s personal cash.” he commented, but Joyce wasn’t paying attention to him.

His keen eyes were scrutinizing the exits, the stage and the security officer’s movements.

Slowly, in the most inconspicuous manner he could muster, he started heading for the stage. His heart was still beating furiously with the adrenaline and elation.

The security officers were trying to herd the last of the people away, but Joyce knew how to avoid security, guards and the like.

“Joyce Jackson” he heard Koz hissing behind his back, trusting his faithful guardian to cover it for him.

The man, sadly, knew that he couldn’t have dragged the boy away without causing a scene and thus attracting attention. And the little fucker knew it too.

The backstage didn’t reflect the modern and elaborate architecture of the stadium. Joyce frowned: the concrete columns and coarse ceiling reminded him of the secret offices where the secrets of the kingdom were kept, complete with humid and sinister air.

He was so intent on looking down on the place that he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, until he bumped into a wall.

Nope, not a wall. A gorilla that had him craning his head back to meet angry green eyes.

“Oy! And how did ye get past the security, uh?”

An iron grip seized his arm, and Joyce started struggling while he was being dragged away.

“Let go! I said let go! I’ll-”

The guard wasn’t even listening to him. “I told Hiccup, to let me handle this, but of course the show pony wouldn’t listen to me, ugh…”

Joyce gnashed his teeth and made to bite the bloody hand off, but Koz came to save him.

“Hem hem.” The gorilla stopped in his tracks, more for the surprise of finding himself facing a tall dark man, with a way too serious face, a blonde wig and a baseball hat than anything else.

“I suggest you let go of him, otherwise more serious consequences will take place.”

The other eyed him. “i don’t know about your consequences, but this little rogue was trying to reach the private area…”

Joyce stuttered, indignant. “Rog- how dare you, you fu-”

In the meanwhile Koz was getting ready to flatten him and to haul the rebellious Prince away, but a new voice avoided the bloodshed.

“Aster? _Aster_ , oh no…”

 

~

 

Hiccup was satisfied.

The St. North Stadium, built in honour of the royal family, was one of the biggest in the kingdom and that evening had been sold out.

The next month one of his concerts, the last of the season, was going to be aired from the Prince Theather, placing him in the Big side of the music. Not bad for a twenty year old.

Yes, mused Hiccup, examining his reflection in the chipped mirror of the changing room. Very satisfied. If things kept going this way, soon he’ll be considered for appearing in front of the royal family.

Seeing the palace up close was one of his biggest dreams: the architecture and recent technology the King had wanted installed made it one of the kingdom’s jewels, and Hiccup was positively vibrating at the idea of seeing it from the inside.

Not to mention, he’d see the Prince too.

A light blush made his freckles stand out, while he imagined Joyce Jackson’s blue eyes staring into his.

He shook his head. Keep your feet on the ground, Hiccup. So that Haven will fly.

He changed, getting out of the sweaty t-shirt and wearing a shirt that made his chest and shoulders look good.

He heard a commotion in the corridor further down his door.

Ignoring the rules set in place by his bodyguard Aster he exited, attrected by a scared, young voice.

He saw the bulky man restraining a skinny boy, while a serious -but slightly murderous- looking tall man was blocking his way.

He guessed the ex-boxer’s blunt manners were annoying the other bodyguard -he sensed he was one by the controlled body language and protective stance- while the boy was desperately struggling and hissing something.

“Aster?”

And if the tall man was a trained guard, then the boy was someone important enough to need one.

“ _Aster,_ oh no…”

Hiccup hurried to the trio, while Aster looked at him with clear annoyance, still keeping a firm hold on the boy that tensed noticeably, while the dark man just looked at him funnily.

Hiccup shivered under that golden gaze, but didn’t back down.

“Aster, let him go. You’re hurting him.”

“This one was wandering around and that one, I take it, shold’ve kept an eye on the blighter.”

The eye of the tall man trembled while the boy shrank a bit more.

Hiccup sighed and walked around him to try and meet his gaze, seeing as a dialogue with the other two would’ve been impossible and a tad dangerous.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get lost.” he bent a little to try and see the other’s face, hidden by long -fake?- black locks and a baseball hat.

“No” the boy admitted. Then he said timidly: “i wanted to meet you… to tell you I like you -well, that you’re very… worthy.”

Surprised, Hiccup laughed. “Ah, thanks?”

The other seemed to relax a bit but still kept his head down.

“Can I know your name?” he asked gently, while he sent Aster a light glare, who huffed but loosened his hold.

“Joyce.”

_Like the Prince_ , thought Hiccup distractedly. “Well, hello Joyce. I’m Hiccup.”

And then the boy looked up. “ _Hic-cup?!_ ”

Hiccup froze. He knew those blue eyes. Saw them on every official picture, in History books, in his dreams.

The curve of the chin and mouth, the light scattering of freckles, the fierce cut of the brow…

Hiccup wondered how the hell the Prince managed to walk around unrecognized with just a wig and a baseball hat.

“Y-Your Grace” he babbled, and suddenly Aster let the boy -the Prince!- go, as if he’d been burned.

His Royal Highness glared at him and pouted, massaging his undoubtedly bruised regal arm, and then looked with uncertain blue eyes at the singer. “Er… hi.”

Hiccup tried to control his expression. The Prince! At his concert?…

The tall guard stepped in between his ward and Hiccup.

“Sir, we have to go. Your father will soon realize you’re gone.”

“Kooooooooooz…”

The whiny and a little spoiled wail broke Hiccup’s reverie.

“I- your Grace! How did you get here? Where’s the rest of the escort?”

The sudden glacial glare sent his way almost made him backtrack phisically. History books weren’t joking, when they depicted the infamous powerful stare of the St. Norths.

“I don’t need and army of babysitters to walk around” hissed Joyce tearing off the wig and hat -that apparently was attached to the wig- and revealing a crown of niveous hair.

Hiccup lowered his head and tried to make himself appear smaller, in a poor attempt at placating the irked royal.

Still, the other seemed to recognize his outburst and tried to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, it’s… I really wanted to see you in person, but my father -that old paranoid- he’s convinced that you’ll attempt my virtue, or that _I_ will attempt your virtue, and people should really start to mind their own business-”

“Whoa, hey” Hiccup tried not to think how criminal it was to interrupt a royal rant by taking the Prince’s shoulders and shaking them, but he was fairly sure the Prince was starting to panic and they were in the middle of a humid and sinister corridor.

“Hey, it’s alright.” he took a nervous glance in _Koz_ ’s direction, but the man was looking at him with an admired expression.

Suddenly, Joyce grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to lean closer without letting go of the other, and the two found themselves very much close, so much that Hiccup could clearly see the lighter shades in the azure irises that blended togheter in the shape of a snowflake.

_I hadn’t imagined it would go this way_ , he thought before the other spoke.

“Come to the palace” whispered the Prince, and Hiccup had to analyze the words in his mind to be sure of their meaning.

“How?” he whispered back.

The Rpince smiled, and Hiccup wasn’t sure it was really sexy or terryfing.

He straightened back and the singer lamented the lost closeness.

“I’ll make sure you’ll be considered for the annual concert of beneficence held at the palace.”

Hiccup felt his heart soar. With the promise and the sudden regal air the boy in front of him had mastered, his senses had a momentaneous black out.

“You’d do it?” he blabbed.

The Prince smiled again.

 

~

 

The hopeful air and light blush on Haven’s -what kind of name was Hiccup, Haven was better- cheek made him look adorable.

He felt his crush get even more solid, and the fact he’d finally found a way to get Haven into the palace made him euphoric.

The Concert Hall wasn’t far from his apartments, if one took the servant’s secret corridors…

“For you” he batted his eyelashes “Of course… you’re my favourite singer.”

He appreciated the sincere -if a bit crooked- smile, and the prominent blush that made the freckles and the green eyes stand out.

With a single glance he told Koz to leave them alone. The bodyguard rolled his eyes but obeyed, dragging the gorilla with him and finding a nice spot that allowed him to still keep an eye on them.

Haven didn’t even notice, he was busy ogling him.

Joyce smiled, genuinely happy. He knew what effect he had on other boys (and girls sometimes) and usually it annoyed him, but with Haven… it was exciting.

He grew a closer, almost touching the other’s collarbone with his chin. “You’re so tall…” he murmured distractedly.

“I have Nordic ancestry” replied Haven a little out of breath.

Joyce smiled again. “Like me!”

Haven gave a little smile of his own. “More or less… my dad says we have royal blood too… of Viking Chieftains. But now it’s so thinned-”

“You’re noble?” Maybe then his father would be more inclined to consider him.

“I don’t think so” admitted Haven “but my dad is very proud of our ancestors.”

Joyce giggled, then he got on his toes to bestow a light kiss at the corner of his viking’s mouth.

Haven became an interesting shade of scarlet, and Joyce knew he was probably the same, but he tried to gather himself like the court etiquette demanded, more to keep impressing the other thn any love he held for composure.

He tried to look regal and crossed his arms behind his back, seeing Koz creeping closer. Ops.

“I’ll see you at the palace then, sir Ha- Hiccup.” He guessed the singer would prefer he used the name he’d told him, however rummy -and funny- it was.

He smiled sincerely. “I’ll wait for you with bated breath.”

Haven answered with a kind smile of his own. “If you really mean it, I’ll be waiting with even more anxiousness.”

Joyce refrained from pouting -Haven didn’t really believe him?- and proffered his right hand, palm down in a clear, if a bit resentful, invitation.

Haven got it immediately and took delicately hold of the pale hand with his bigger, warmer one. Joyce felt a shiver running down his spine and to his fingertips, making him blush, even more so when Haven leaned down and pressed his lips on the cool back, looking at him, trying to memorize his feeling, his softness, his smell. He smelled of soap and a little like chips. He held back a smile.

Koz flanked the Prince, a silent shadow. Aster kept his distance.

Joyce sent him another glare, satisfied by the guard lowering his eyes but didn’t say sorry.

A good guard for a good possible future King.

He stole a last glance at Haven’s so green eyes, before adjusting his wig and hat and walking towards the nearest exit, leaving the other looking at his retreating back.

 

~

 

“I think it’ll be more difficult than you let on, convincing your father.”

“And why would that be, Koz? It’s not like it’s going to be just me and him, at the Concert…”

Koz sent him a knowing look, and Joyce gave him an innocent smile.

“The door of the servant’s corridor behind the Sea tapestry in the Concert Hall was closed after the fire in the kitchens, sir.”

 

_Oh, damn it._

 

 

 


End file.
